A DANGEROUS NEIGHBORHOOD.
"So! You report that you were chased by some enemy? I've read
it--I've read the commodore's letter. What were you chased by, sir?"
"I can't be sure what they were, sir. I took them for privateers. The
first of 'em gave me a shot my fourth day out. Another followed me
three days later. Peppered at me for an hour at long range. Both
times I escaped 'em in the night."
"I'm glad you did! I think the commodore is right about you, sir.
Take your own course, always. Be ready to take the _Termagant_ across
again as soon as she's loaded."
"Repairs, sir," said Captain Watts, for the dignified officer before
whom he stood was the port admiral in command of the British port of
Liverpool. "Foremast sprung, sir. She wants a new maintopmast.
She'll need all her spars, or I'm mistaken. If I'm to be in her she'll
use her canvas, sir. I've no fancy for falling again into the clutches
of the rebels."
"They might hang you this time, eh?" said the admiral, pleasantly, as
if that were a bit of a joke. "They might, indeed. Send in your
requisitions; you shall have your repairs. I'll order them at once.
Now, sir, is there anything else?"
"Yes, sir," said Watts; "I wish to report what I heard concerning rebel
privateers and new provincial cruisers. That is, it may all be already
reported."
"Heave ahead!" interrupted the admiral. "Tell what you've heard. Your
news is as likely to be correct as any other. Go on, sir."
"It's the old story o' the rats and the cheese, sir," said Luke. "The
bigger the cheese, the more the rats. Our trade's the fat they mean to
cut into, sir. I heard o' rebel privateers fittin' out all along the
New England coast. They told me o' some in North Carolina, out o' the
Neuse River. Some from Virginny, up the Potomac and the James. Some
down in South Carolina and Georgia; but I can't say but what as bad as
any are comin' out o' the Chesapeake and the Delaware. What we're
goin' to need is more light cruisers off the Irish coast, sir, and in
the channels."
"Ha, ha!" laughed the great official. "The Yankee pirates'll never
show themselves on this coast. Go now; we can pick 'em up as fast as
they come."
Captain Luke Watts had kept his word to the British authorities. He
had piloted the _Termagant_ safely into her harbor. He was, therefore,
above and beyond any possible suspicions as to his loyalty. There was
nothing to prevent him from delivering, not only his packages of
valuable furs, but also any other parcels which he had brought with him
from America.
"All right!" he said to himself, as he swung out of the port admiral's
office. "They'll know better one o' these days. I'm glad to be told,
though, that they mean to remain off their guard till they're waked up.
I wish they'd send a few more o' their best ships somewhere else.
Captain Lyme Avery and a lot more like him are coming this way pretty
soon."
He was only halfway correct in that assertion, for Captain Avery and
the _Noank_ were not just then in shape to sail for England. After
their noteworthy adventures with pirates and slavers, there had been
many hours of plain sailing, in company with the rescued _Santa
Teresa_. The second morning was well advanced when the two vessels
found themselves only a mile or so outside of the ample harbor of Porto
Rico. They had also tacked within speaking distance of each other.
"Senor Avery," sang out Captain Velasquez, "I have the honor to make a
friendly suggestion."
"I'm ready, thank you, senor," said Captain Avery. "What is it?"
"Let the _Santa Teresa_ go ahead and look in. I'll send a boat back
with a Carib pilot. There might be a British cruiser in port."
"That's the very thing I was thinkin' of," said the captain of the
_Noank_. "A thousand thanks, senor. We'll heave to."
Very little more needed to be said. There were other sails in sight,
of various sorts and sizes, but not one of them carried the red-cross
flag of England.
As for the _Noank_, all her ports were closed, there was a tarpaulin
over her pivot-gun, and she was a peaceable appearing merchant
schooner. Even the bunting at her masthead was a fraud, for it
declared of her that she came from France, and was not to be molested
without proper authority.
"It's a kind of lie!" muttered Guert Ten Eyck. "They say all is fair
in war, but I don't want to run up anything but an American flag. I
don't half like to go ashore, either."
Nobody else on board, perhaps, was in sympathy with that part of his
prejudices, but then his "going ashore" might mean a longer stay than
that of any other sailor. The more he thought of it, the less he liked
it.
"Father," said Vine Avery, after hearing the Spanish captain, "let
Guert and me take a boat now, and pull in behind 'em. If we see any
danger, we can streak it back at once."
"Good!" said the captain. "Take the small cutter and Coco and the
Indian. They speak Spanish."
Off went Vine, and in a few minutes more a small and sharp-nosed boat
manned by four rowers was dancing along into the harbor mouth.
"Splendid!" exclaimed Guert, staring this way and that way, landward,
as he pulled. "This all beats anything I ever heard of it. Hullo!"
"Lobster!" growled Coco.
"One, two, three, four sugar-boat," came from Up-na-tan. "_Noank_ get
some of 'em. Big frigate no good."
That may have been his opinion, but she looked as if she would be of
some account in a naval combat, that splendid British frigate, so taut
and trim, lying there at her anchor. The sails now furled along her
yards could be opened quickly enough, and there would then be no other
ship of her size, of any other nation on earth, that she need fear to
meet.
"Forty guns," said Up-na-tan. "Knock hole in _Noank_. Wait, now. See
what ole Spaniard do."
"It looks kind o' rugged for us," thought Guert. "We can't run into
port at all. If we did we'd never get out again."
The captain of the _Santa Teresa_ was keeping his promise. His ship
was taking in sail, and a well-manned boat was lowering from her side.
"Here they come," said Guert. "We'll know more when they get here."
"No," said Up-na-tan. "Ole chief see frigate himself. Know what do.
All Cap'n Avery want is Carib pilot. Tell him where go. Up-na-tan
know Cuba lagoons, not Porto Rico. So Coco."
On came the Spanish boat, and as it drew nearer they could recognize
Captain Velasquez himself in the stern-sheets, ready to answer their
hail.
"Senor," he said to Vine Avery, "there is one more British cruiser,
farther in. Pedro, here, will go back with you and pilot your schooner
to a safe mooring, up the coast. Only friends will come to see you
there. You may watch for a green flag on the shore, or a green light
after dark."
"Thank you, senor," said Vine. "All right. Let him come aboard."
Lightly as a panther, with wonderful quickness of motion, a short,
slight, dark-faced fellow sprang over into the cutter.
"Me Pedro," he said. "Fight for Americano. Save he troat from
picaroon."
The Carib, therefore, could make himself understood in English, and he
was eager to express his personal gratitude for his rescue from pirates
and sharks.
"Now, senor," said Captain Velasquez, "we will run in and make our
report. After that is done, you may rely upon all that our authorities
can do for you. You will find that Spaniards can be grateful. Senora
Alvarez and Senora Paez wish me to say that their young friend must
soon be at their house."
Guert expressed his thanks and willingness a little lamely, and the
uppermost thought in his mind was:--
"There! I hardly know what I said. I'll pick up every Spanish word I
can get hold of, while I'm among 'em."
"Pull back hard!" said Up-na-tan. "Vine lose no time. Ole chief see
men jump around on frigate. See go to capstan. Come out soon."
He had a red man's eye for signs, and nothing escaped him. None of his
companions, not even Coco, had noticed the fact that a number of
British sailors were going aloft, or that there were men gathering at
the frigate's capstan as if they had designs upon the anchor.
A very different kind of man, as sharp in some respects as the
Manhattan himself, had all that while been taking observations through
a good telescope. He was in a somewhat weather-beaten uniform of a
British first lieutenant, and he stood on the quarter-deck of the
_Tigress_, reporting to his captain:--
"Small boat, sir, from outside the harbor. Yankee-built cutter. Two
American sailors, I take 'em to be. One nigger. One mulatto, I'd say.
Now they are meeting a boat from the Spanish trader that's coming in.
Of course, sir, there's a rebel craft o' some sort somewhere outside,
waiting to know if it's safe to come in."
"All right, Mackenzie," replied the captain of the _Tigress_. "We must
catch her. Up anchor!"
"Ay, ay, sir," said Mackenzie, "but no canvas out till that Yankee
scout-boat gets away. They needn't suspect we're after em."
"Trust your head, my boy," replied his bluff commander. "You're a
sea-fox, my dear fellow, but you won't steal a march on any Yankee,
right away. They're as cunning as Mohawks. Speak that Spaniard, if
she comes within hail."
That was precisely what the captain of the _Santa Teresa_ had decided
not to do, if he could help it. The moment he was again on board of
his own ship, he took the helm himself, and he made as wide a sheer
easterly as he could. Owing to the channel and the position of the
_Tigress_, however, the best he could do was to escape miscellaneous
conversation. He could not quite avoid coming within speaking-trumpet
range. The hoarse hail of the British lieutenant reached him clearly
enough.
"Ship ahoy! What ship's that?"
"_Santa Teresa_. Barcelona to Porto Rico. Passengers and cargo. What
ship's that?"
"His Britannic Majesty's _Tigress_, Captain Frobisher," replied
Mackenzie. "You've seen rough weather, eh? One o' your sticks gone?"
"Knocked out," returned Velasquez. "We were mauled by a buccaneer. We
got away from him."
"Where did you leave the American?" was the lieutenant's next question,
made as confidently as if he had actually seen the _Noank_. "What is
she, anyhow?"
The Spanish captain was silent for a moment in utter astonishment. How
could the Englishman have known anything about it? His very surprise,
however, defeated his prudence, and he answered:--
"Heavy schooner, bound in. She won't try it, now you are here."
"All right," came cheerily back; "I saw you send her a pilot. I'll
report you."
"Caramba!" shouted Velasquez, in sudden anger. "Report! I hope your
American rebels will beat you on land and sea! They have my good will,
with all my heart!"
"That's so, I declare!" exclaimed the British officer, lowering his
glass. "I might have known it. It's the old grudge between England
and Spain. No wonder the Yankees get away from us as they do. All the
American colonies are in league together against all Europe. We'll
hunt down that Yankee schooner, though, in spite of 'em. Humph! To be
snubbed in this way by the skipper of a Barcelona trader! I'll report
him! What's the world coming to!"
The _Santa Teresa_, under very light canvas, was now making her slow
way to her wharf, to which her arrival signals had already summoned a
growing throng of expectant people. Among these, of course, were the
mercantile men who were interested in the ship and her cargo, and many
more were the friends and relatives of her crew and passengers.
Besides these, there were naval, military, and custom-house officials,
and persons who were eager for the latest news from Europe.
As the _Santa Teresa_ floated nearer, hats and handkerchiefs began to
wave on board and on the shore. The first words that were sent
landward, however, were in the tremendously excited treble of old
Senora Paez.
"Praise God!" she called out. "Praise to Our Lady! We were rescued
from the pirates! We were saved from death by an American privateer!
God bless the Americans and give them their freedom!"
Little she knew and less she cared that her enthusiastic utterances
were heard by loyal subjects of the king of England. Hardly a cable's
length away was anchored a stout corvette of twenty-eight guns, whose
officers and men, up to that moment, had been observing the new arrival
quite listlessly.
Instantly, now, there began a stir on board of her, and a boat prepared
to put off to the _Santa Teresa_ upon an errand of inquiry. Before it
could be lowered, however, the corvette herself was hailed by a boat
from the _Tigress_.
"Up anchor, is it? Yankee trader outside?" was half angrily thrown
back at that boat's message. "Ay, ay! we're coming. You may tell
Captain Frobisher it isn't any trader. It's one of those Connecticut
pirates. We've learned that right here.--All hands away! Up anchor,
lieutenant! That old woman has told us what we're going to do."
Swiftly indeed the questions and answers were exchanging between the
crowded wharf and the thrilling news-bringers on the _Santa Teresa_.
Loud and repeated were the cheers for _los Americanos_ and their plucky
little cruiser. The British consul at Porto Rico was one of the
listeners, and he muttered discontentedly:--
"The rebels will get all the help and information they need. Not an
English merchant keel in port or due here would be safe if it weren't
for the _Tigress_ and the _Hermione_. Think of it! Six cargoes ready
to go out, and they'll all have to run the Yankee gantlet. There may
be more than one privateer, you know."
Straight to the wharf steered the _Santa Teresa_. No sooner was her
gang-plank out than her passengers poured over it to be welcomed after
the exuberant Spanish fashion.
The _Tigress_, away out at the harbor mouth, was already under way, and
the _Hermione_ would soon follow her. There was a change in the state
of feeling on board the frigate, however, after the return of the boat
from the corvette.
"A privateer, they say?" said Captain Frobisher. "That's bad. She
beat off a pirate for the Spaniard? What do you make of that,
Mackenzie?"
"It's easy to read, sir," replied his foxy second in command. "It's as
plain as print. The Americans are wiser than we are. They know enough
to carry heavy guns. Not many of 'em, I take it, but altogether too
much metal for any of these murderous picaroons."
"I'm glad they were, my boy," said the captain, heartily. "I hope they
sent the devils to the bottom. I'm afraid we're to have trouble with
those fellows, my boy. They can't face our cruisers, to be sure, but
they may play havoc with our merchant marine. The admiralty must take
severe measures with some of them."
"We'll try and do that ourselves with this one out yonder," said the
lieutenant, but his duties called him away, and he did not explain
precisely what was in his angry mind concerning the _Noank_.
That very saucy little man-of-war was not trying to look any further
into the guarded harbor of Porto Rico. Vine Avery and his crew had
returned with their report of danger. They also reported whatever they
had learned of the British merchant craft, and Captain Avery had,
therefore, several things to think of.
"Now, Pedro," he said to the Carib pilot, "what next?"
"Run into lagoon to-night," said Pedro. "_Noank_ get through inlet at
low water. British ship stick on bar. Schooner come out again when
captain say ready. Safe!"
"I understand that," said the captain, thoughtfully. "Our draft will
let us in. Almost any British man-o'-war would draw too much."
"No!" replied the Carib; "captain wrong. High water on bar, deep
enough for small corvette. All right. British no find channel, Deep
water inside reef."
"That's it, is it?" said the captain. "Then the sooner we are through
that channel, the better. All sail on, Sam. Let her go!"
The crew had already crowded around Guert Ten Eyck and his friends to
hear what they had to tell. There did not seem to be anything like
disappointment among them. They had expected to hear of British
cruisers here away. They had known, all along, that only by sharp and
daring work could they hope to find or capture their intended prizes.
"What do you think, Sam?" asked the captain, as soon as the _Noank_ was
once more flying along. "Doesn't this begin to look a little squally?"
"Well, no," said the mate, soberly. "It looks like we'd best lie low
for a while, that's all. What I'm thinkin' of is this. What if this
Carib's lagoon and the channel into it are known to the British, or if
they should be discovered while we're cooped up in there? They'd be
sure to come in after us in boats. Most likely they'd come at night.
We must make calculations on that."
"That's what we can do," growled the captain. "A boat attack'd stand
for hard fightin'. I ain't so sure the chances would be against us.
I'll tell you what, Sam Prentice, all that's left of a gang o' boats
won't be enough to board and carry the _Noank_."
"Not if we're watchin'," said Sam.
"We won't stay in any longer'n we can help," said the captain. "I'm
hopin' we are to get the right kind of information from the Spaniards."
"Not from their authorities," grimly responded the mate. "They won't
do anything to make trouble between them and the British. Porto Rico
is buildin' up a prime Liverpool trade just now."
"Sam!" exclaimed his friend, "you don't know human natur'! After a
Porto Rico planter has been paid for his sugar, he doesn't care a
copper what harbor it goes to. Besides, I'll bet on the _Santa Teresa_
people. I took 'em for the right kind all 'round."
"I'm glad they're safe, anyhow," said Prentice. "That puts me in mind
of another thing, Lyme. I kind o' like it that we're not to run into
Porto Rico first thing. The Spanish lawyers might put in a claim on
Groot and get him shot or hung. I've talked with him. He isn't a bad
sort of Dutchman."
"We'll take care of him," said the captain. "Only man we saved. Prime
good seaman. He'll be one more first-rate fighter, too, when we need
him."
So the _Noank_ sped on, and the two British men-of-war came sailing out
of the harbor to chase her.